


Rub Me The Right Way

by 5sexualhomos



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Barebacking, Fingering, M/M, Rimming, good amount of plot, some bad descriptions of a massage, this is so mild compared to everything else ive written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 09:24:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5sexualhomos/pseuds/5sexualhomos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Harry styles is a masseur and most definitely not infatuated with a certain internationally know boybander by the name of Louis Tomlinson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rub Me The Right Way

**Author's Note:**

> Had this idea in my head forever (usually how writing goes innit?) Anyway... I sat down and just kinda pounded this out (pun definitely intended) This is mild compared to the rest of the smut I've written. 
> 
> I've had a few massages before so I kinda know how they work, that's how I got the inspiration for this. Um yea... not much else I can think of really hope you enjoy and that it's not entirely terrible.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are greatly appreciated.

_“Fuck... need you,” Louis pants as Harry continues working three fingers in and out of his hole. Of course Harry obliges, pulling out his fingers and replacing them with his cock. Once fully seated he stays there, letting Louis adjust._

_“Fuck, Harry” Louis whines “Move.”_

_And who is Harry to deny him that, he starts snapping his hips into Louis’ hole. The sound of skin on skin and their labored breathing, are the only sounds in the room. Harry shifts a bit, trying to find Louis’ prostate and is soon rewarded with a breathy whine from the smaller man._

_“Again, fuck,” Louis moans. Harry repeats the action over and over, getting Louis to let out breathy moans that start softly then get louder and louder, until they sound inhuman..._

Harry opens his eyes with a groan. Obviously with his luck, it was just a dream.

He slaps the alarm clock on his bedside table that reads 6:15, efficiently silencing the screaming machine. He lets out another groan and rolls onto his back. Harry looks up at the ceiling, attempting to return to the glorious dream he had been so rudely awoken from. If only he could actually meet Louis Tomlinson and then hopefully all his dreams would become reality. He closes his eyes for a second... 

"HARRY!!! We're going to be late!" Zayn yells as he pounds on Harry's door. Harry lets out a groan and looks at the clock on his bedside table that now reads 6:49

 _Shit,_ he thinks throwing the covers off himself and jumping from his bed.

"Dude, if we’re late one more time they are gonna fire us for sure!"

"Zayn, chill out we’ll be on time. I just have to take a shower." Harry says calmly opening the door. "Fuck that, you don’t have time." 

"I need to! My hair is going to look like shit all day if I don’t.”

“Not my problem. And it looks as if you have another problem,” Zayn smirks looking pointedly at Harry’s crotch.

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Another dream, about Mr. Perfect?”

“Not as if you haven’t had some about a certain Liam Payne,” Harry comments as he rummages for some clean clothes.

“Touche” 

Harry quickly gets dressed, brushes his teeth and tries to manage his unruly locks. Once he decides his hair will just have to do he goes to the small kitchen of his and Zayn’s flat.  
He finds a piece of toast with jelly sitting on the counter and Zayn leaning against the fridge, just finishing his own. 

“Gotta eat on the road, dude.”

Harry grabs his toast and follows Zayn out the door to their car. 

When Zayn starts the car, the radio is blasting some song by some stupid boyband, they instantly share a look and start belting the words from heart.

“And that was the latest single from Manufactured Happiness. Still an odd name for a boyband innit? They have kind of grown on me actually... anyway the boys are back from their short trip to America and were spotted back in London last night.” the radio announcer states. Neither of the boys hear what is said next because Harry lets out a shrill squeaking noise. 

 

“Dude, chill. We live in London. There is really no need to get all worked up about it,” Zayn states.

“I really have no idea where that came from. But you know I get worked up about even the possibility of seeing one of them,” Harry says.

“It’s a tad creepy how invested you are,”

“Oi, you are just as invested as I am,” Harry declares. Zayn looks at him with a raised eyebrow. “Okay, so maybe not. At least I don’t write fanfiction.”

“Yea, but you do read it.” 

Harry makes a disgruntled noise and looks out the window for the rest of the car ride. They arrive at the spa just six minutes before their shifts start. They hurriedly get into their uniforms and glance at their schedules for the day. 

Harry lets out a loud groan when he sees that he is booked for the majority of the day. And without further ado he plasters on his best smile in order to greet his first appointment of the day.

\---

The day has been full of rich middle age women who want nothing more than a young man rubbing his hands all over their bodies, and are able to get massages because their husbands work their asses off just to keep them happy. At the end of the day Harry wants nothing more than to go home and watch a marathon of Breaking Bad on Netflix. Even though he doesn’t have any more appointments he has to stay until Zayn is finished. 

He is waiting for Zayn in the break room playing Flappy Bird, only 5 away from beating his high score, when his boss, Gabrielle, walks in.

“Harry, so sorry but some people just walked in” she announces.

“We don’t do walk-ins,” Harry replies, eyes still on his phone..

“Yes, well we do if they’re celebrities.” 

“Who exactly?” he asks, still uninterested.

“What’s that one group with the three lads, really big boy band..”

Harry loses his concentration, effectively ending the game, and very nearly drops his phone.

“You don’t mean Manufactured Happiness?” 

“Yes! That’s it! And they’re all here! Isn’t that exciting?!” she gushes.

“Yeah, very...” Harry gulps.

“Tell Zayn will you,” Gabrielle says and walks out.

Harry sits down in a chair just staring at the wall, completely dumbfounded. After a minute Zayn walks in whistling to himself.

“Whoa, look like you’ve seen a ghost. Cheer up dude, we get to go home,” Zayn proclaims.

“No,” Harry states numbly.

“What was that, mate?”

“We don’t get to go home, not yet. There are a few more people who came in.”

“We don’t do walk-ins”

“It’s them.” Harry whispers.

“What was that?” 

Harry looks Zayn in the eye.

“It’s them. It’s Niall Horan, Liam Payne, and Louis motherfucking Tomlinson.”

Zayn’s eyes widen. “Are you shitting me?”

Harry just shakes his head. “I wish I was.”

“Fuck.” Zayn exclaims. Harry nods in agreement. “Well, it’s now or never right? Let’s go.” 

Zayn leaves the room and Harry has no choice but to follow. He sets his phone down and walks down the hall to the lobby, blood pounding in his ears and his palms getting sweaty. He stops right before entering the lobby in order to collect himself by taking a few deep breaths. Once he feels calm enough, he rounds the corner to see Louis Tomlinson. He’s just standing there, talking to Gabrielle and even though Harry knew Louis would be here, he is still shocked. 

Harry stops in his tracks and takes in the gloriousness that is Louis Tomlinson, like any other normal human being would, for a solid two minutes. Until finally Gabrielle notices him.

“Ah! This is Harry he’ll be your masseur today,” she says in a calming tone.

Louis looks over at Harry, his eyes traveling all the way up his body in an appreciative way until their eyes meet and Harry makes an audible gulp. 

“If you’ll just follow me, Mr. Tomlinson,” Harry says as evenly as possible in his nervous state. He turns quickly to hide the growing blush in his cheeks and walks back down the hall, the sound of Louis following behind him.

“You seem nervous, mate,” Louis comments.

Harry simply hums, too afraid to open his mouth because Louis is most definitely right, he is nervous beyond belief.

“I know you can talk.”

“Yes,” Harry answers quietly.

“Just won't shut up will you? You have such a pretty voice, goes well with the face. I like it. Wouldn’t mind hearing more of it.”

Harry stops in front of a door. “We’ll be in this room today. You can undress however much you’re comfortable with. And lie on your stomach under the covers once you’re done. I’ll be back shortly.” 

Louis gives him a wink and walks into the room. Harry closes the door and slumps against the wall. He lets out a shaky breath trying to contain himself, and not overthink the fact that his hands will soon be all over Louis Tomlinson’s body, something he has merely dreamed about for nearly a year.

He stands up, takes one last deep breath and with a whispered ‘You can do this’, knocks on the door and hears no protest, so he enters.The only part of Louis he can see is the back of his head, covered, of course, by his beautiful brunet locks, that Harry simply wants to run his hands through, hopefully when Louis is on his knees...

 _‘Get it the fuck together!!!’_ Harry screams internally.

“So, are you going to start touching me anytime soon?” Louis asks, his voice slightly muffled, “I’m not the expert, but I’m fairly certain that’s how massages work.”

“No.. I.. uh, yeah.. I just...yeah,” Harry stammers.

“Still nervous, then?” 

“Immensely,” Harry lets out “Why did I just tell you that?”

“I have one of those faces,” Louis teases, and shifts himself so that he is resting on his elbows, the blanket falling to show his back curved in a delicious slope. And Harry can’t seem to tear his eyes away from Louis’ perfect curves, licking his lips unconsciously. “Why’re you so nervous? Good lad like you, nice little body, well not so little, actually. Shouldn’t be nervous around little old me.”

“Let’s get started! Shall we? If you’ll just lie back down,” Harry proclaims, desperately wanting to change the subject.

Louis complies and returns to the position he was in before. Harry covers Louis' back and moves to uncover Louis’ left leg, just as he was taught, lifting it gently and setting it on top of the warm blankets. As he adjusts the covers by the top of Louis’ leg and the start of his hip, Harry notices Louis is definitely not wearing underwear. 

_‘You practically told him to strip Styles, get your shit together,’_

Harry covers his hands in oil and mentally prepares himself one last time, before finally starting the massage. He begins by taking Louis’ foot into his hands and gently massaging the sole with his thumbs. He does this for a few minutes before moving his hands up Louis’ leg, nearly touching the blanket and bringing his hands back down. Harry repeats this action a few more times before rubbing into the muscles of Louis’ thigh.

“If you ever want me to go harder, just say the word,” Harry states in a normal voice.

“Take me out to dinner first. I thought you were different, Harold.” Louis jokes.

“I... um... meant..”

“I’m teasing. This isn’t my first massage, you know.”

“Well that makes one of us.” Harry says, gaining more some more confidence.

“Well then you’re just a natural with your fingers.”

Harry hums in acknowledgement while he gets more oil on his hands.

“I wonder what other activities they would be good at?” Louis comments.

Harry pauses, momentarily shocked at the words coming from Louis’ mouth. He regains his composure as fast as possible and resumes massaging Louis’ leg. They sit in silence as Harry finishes the left leg and moves on to the right. He repeats the same process as before, getting no complaints from the smaller man. He finishes with the right leg and covers it up once more, moving on to his back. 

Harry grabs the blanket and slowly pulling it back to fully reveal Louis’ muscular and tanned back. Harry can’t help but stare, which he has already done more than enough of today, but can’t seem to help himself. Not when his celebrity crush is literally paying him to be touched. 

“Like what you see?” Louis questions. He is looking at Harry with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Harry doesn’t respond, can’t respond, the nervousness returning once more. So he simply lathers his hands in oil and puts his hands on Louis’ back.

Harry starts by rubbing the oil all over Louis’ back, so it’s nice a slick. Once he has done this he begins rubbing more deeply right below the neck, slowly moving down Louis’ back.

“Harder,” Louis moans.

Harry obeys, really digging into the muscles now, completely eradicating any possible knots.

“Harder,” Louis moans louder this time.

Harry obliges once more, simply giving the client what they want. Harry is massaging the small of Louis’ back when Harry hear Louis mumble something. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” 

“Lower,” Louis states.

“What?” Harry gulps.

“You heard me, lower."

“We aren’t... um... I could.., get fired...” Harry stammers out.

Louis moves his head to look directly into Harry’s eyes.

“Do not pretend like you don’t want to fuck me. I’m not blind for one and two, you’re sexy as fuck and I really want to have sex with you.”

“Do you say that to all the boys?” Harry says with mock bravado.

“Just fuck me,”

“If you insist.”

Harry strips his uniform and pulls the blanket off of Louis entirely, allowing it to crumple on the floor, once again pausing in order to fully take in this experience. 

“What are you waiting for?” Louis asks impatiently

“Need you on your knees, like ass in the air,” Harry instructs.

Louis moves very quickly, and Harry sees that he’s already hard. Once Louis is situated, Harry spreads his cheeks and because he can more than anything else, starts licking at the puckered hole. Louis lets out a gasp, not expecting the hot wetness, but starts moaning almost immediately and grinding back onto Harry’s tongue. Harry continues his ministrations, slowly working his tongue into Louis’ hole. When it’s open enough, he sticks a finger alongside his tongue moving it in and out.

“More,” Louis gasps.

Harry takes his tongue away, making Louis whine at the loss, but quickly replaces it with two fingers covered in oil. He pumps them in and out at a steady pace, occasionally scissoring them. When Louis starts fucking himself on Harry’s fingers, he adds a third, keeping them still so he can watch Louis rock back on his fingers and hear the delicious noises falling from the smaller man’s mouth. Harry pulls his fingers out when he’s close to coming, earning a noise of desperation from Louis.

“On your back, babe,” 

Louis flips himself over in the blink of an eye. Just as Harry is about to push in Louis stops him.

“Do you have a condom?”

“Do I look like I regularly have sex at work?” Harry replies.

“Clean?”

“Yea, you?”

Louis nods. 

“Okay.”

Harry lines himself up once more and pushes in slowly. He stops once he’s all the way in, allowing Louis to adjust. Louis’ face scrunches up, so Harry takes hold of his cock and starts pumping slowly. 

“Jesus, Harry move,” Louis begs, after a few strokes.

And so Harry does, starting out slow, but gaining speed when Louis keeps saying ‘Harder, harder’. Harry shifts a bit to find Louis’ prostate, and is rewarded with the filthiest sound he has ever heard in his life that he wants to hear again and again. So he repeats the action over, and over, getting the same noise.

“Fuck,” Louis groans. “I’m gonna come.”

“Do it,” Harry gasps. And so he does, painting his and Harry’s chests white. Harry keeps going, knowing he’s not far behind Louis. “I’m close too” Louis clenches around Harry, effectively sending him over the edge. Harry falls on top of Louis, his cock still inside of him. 

“Not the most usual massage, but by far the best,” Louis states, after a few minutes.

“Ha, same for me,” Harry replies. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

Louis doesn’t answer, simply closes the minimal distance between their lips. It’s a chaste kiss, but good nonetheless. 

“I could get used to this,” Harry states.

“Me too,” Louis hums.

They lie there for a few more minutes before deciding to get ready. Once they are fully dressed, Louis grabs a sharpie he always carries around and writes his number on Harry’s hand.

Harry goes home that night unemployed, something about not being completely professional with a client, and disturbing the peacefulness of the spa. He could really care less when he sees the digits written on his hand, ensuring that with his luck it wasn’t just a dream.


End file.
